


All Days are Nights

by S3C



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Confident Yuuri, F/F, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Love at First Sight, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Royal Ball AU, Self-discovery of sexuality, Sort of a cinderella au too i guess?, The russian skaters are a family now, because I'm a sap, bored victor, drunk yuuri, literal fluff i have no excuse, not that they basically werent before
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:16:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9721874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S3C/pseuds/S3C
Summary: Crown Prince Victor Nikiforov is heir to the Russian Empire, and to satisfy his father and fulfil his duties he needs to find a wife to rule with.Things are complicated slightly by the arrival of a young Japanese man who suddenly sets Victor's world on fire.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Shakespeare's sonnet 43: 
> 
> All days are nights to see till I see thee,  
> All nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
> 
> Inspired by Tanaw's beautiful artwork of a Royal Ball AU which can be found here: http://tanaw.tumblr.com/post/155394542320/where-yuuri-charms-victor-at-a-royal-ball-aka-the
> 
> I'm trash and I haven't written in years, forgive me.

The ball was dazzling. The smell of thousands of candles burning on the golden chandeliers mingled with the sounds of laughter and soft music and the taste of wine on Victor’s lips.

Everything about him, his clothes, his hair, his eyes, gleamed silver, placing him at odds with the heavy gold and purple of the ball room. He was conspicuous, but then again he was supposed to be. He was the crown prince of Russia, Victor Alexandri Nikiforov. He stood out wherever he went, and nowhere more so than this ball, designed for him to find a wife to rule with him over one of the largest empires in the world. 

He was leaning over the balcony, surveying the hundreds of swirling gowns and suits that covered the floor of the ball room, the sounds of chatter and laughter and the string quartet that played over it all floating up to him where he stood, alone. For a moment, his face fell into one of a sincere and beautiful sadness, which disappeared instantly when he heard the door behind him open. 

‘Yuri!’ He grinned at his youngest brother as he left his room, who turned to glare at him. 

‘I don’t know what you’re so happy about,’ Yuri grumbled, standing next to Victor and looking out over the ball, pulling his face into a perfect pout. ‘I hate parties. I don’t know why I have to come.’ 

‘Because we’re hosting it, Yurochka,’ Victor chuckled and ruffled Yuri’s hair which elicited a small but threatening growl. 

Victor turned to go down the impressive curved staircase when he spotted someone in the crowd, a young man standing alone, close to the wall, worrying his bottom lip. Victor resolved to find him later, make sure he was alright and felt comfortable in their home, but the though dissolved as quickly as it had come, and his attention was caught by his sister, Mila, waving from the top of the stairs. 

‘Victor, Yuri, Papa wants you to come now!’ She beckoned with a finger and a playful smile on her face. 

A hush descended on the crowd as they took to the stairs and, joined by their brother Georgi, the four of them descended into the midst of the party. A lifetime of royalty meant that Victor was hardly uncomfortable in the spotlight, but he knew tonight that all eyes were on him. There were women tripping over themselves to be in his favour, to become his queen, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. 

He was soon swept up in the party, moving seamlessly from one crowd to the next, charming and dazzling his father’s ministers and associates, and dancing with their daughters who fawned over him. As a glass of champagne was forced into his hand, and the girl next to him placed her hand on his elbow with a knowing smile, it struck him, suddenly, that everything was a façade. The women around him were nothing more than actresses, designed to attract and seduce, the decadence only a display of wealth, and he himself was playing out the greatest deception of them all. All of a sudden, the rich colours of the vast room seemed incredibly dark. 

His fit of melancholy, which were becoming more and more frequent recently, passed, and he was swiftly introduced to an Italian woman, a little younger than him, with dark hair and mischievous eyes. She was beautiful, charming and graceful as well as witty, fiery and incredibly good natured, a perfect wife, a perfect queen. Victor tried to stir something, some amorous feeling towards her, the perfect woman, but it felt flat and hollow. 

As they danced, they spoke, and Victor found he enjoyed her company. He felt guilty for being so distant, for his lack of effort. 

“You’re exceptionally beautiful,” he tried. “I don’t know what you’re doing with someone like me.”

She laughed. “Well you are the heir to the entire Russian Empire. That helps.” 

Her honesty made him smile, and brought a strange sense of relief. 

“Do you not find these things incredibly trying?” He asked, quietly enough so that only she could hear.

“Not at all. I need to find a husband. It’s my job to socially advance my family,” she said dismissively. 

It was Victor’s turn to laugh. “Must you be so mercenary? What about love?”

She smiled, and suddenly her face became incredibly sad. “There is no such thing as love in civilised society,” she whispered, as though she were making a confession. She leant in close to Victor’s ear. “Besides, if I marry someone rich enough, maybe my brother will be able to leave the army.” She pursed her lips. “He is not well suited to warfare.” 

Her eyes wandered to her brother, talking animatedly to a group of young men, and the sadness did not leave her face. 

Victor studied her face as he twirled her and caught her hand in his again. He treasured the few moments when she was herself, when all her pretence fell away to reveal who she really was. 

Suddenly a transformation came over her face, as though it were lit up from within, and Victor looked up to follow her gaze. His sister Mila, her vivid red hair shocking and audacious and almost certain to give their father a coronary at some point, was dancing and laughing and she made the action seem as one, as though her head tipped back and her smiling mouth were part of the dance itself. 

“Would you like me to introduce you?” Victor asked with a smile. His companion nodded, a faint blush settling on her cheeks. 

 

Leaving the girl in his sister’s capable hands, Victor found himself alone again. He floated for a while, feeling lost in his own home. He was startled out of his reverie by a hand on his shoulder. 

“Prince Victor…” A voice behind him breathed. 

Victor was not used to being addressed as ‘Prince Victor’. Victor was used to being addressed as Your Highness, Your Excellency, Your Radiance or, at a push, Tsesarevich Nikiforov. Victor was not used to being called by his first name, not by anyone other than his family. The audacity of it sent shivers down his spine. Whoever had spoken was not a man who lived within the constraints of their society. 

When he turned, he was greeted with the form of a young man, Japanese and slightly shorter than himself. The curve of his face was gentle and his cheeks were blushed as red as his lips. Victor’s skin felt electric, he felt his heart beat faster and his breaths become shorter and he found it so impossibly hard to tear away his gaze from the other man’s face. 

Suddenly, everything made sense. 

He had thought about men like… that before, of course he had. His piano tutor with his slender fingers and his chauffer with a devilish smile had all appeared in his night-time fantasies at some point or another, but he had hidden his perversions, kept them secret. He had not realised it was possible to _love _another man, to feel for another man the things he felt for the one standing in front of him. His tousled dark hair and his smile which exuded confidence made Victor’s mouth grow dry and his heart hammer in his chest.__

Abruptly, he found he no longer wanted to hide. Everything in the world seemed so much more radiant if only that man was in it. The feeling was strange and raw and utterly exhilarating, and Victor decided that it had to be love. It had to be love, just the same as a man felt for any woman. He wanted everyone in the room to know, he wanted to show the entire world the extent of his feelings, and for the first time, he was proud of them. 

The young man bit his bottom lip slightly, as though he were aware of the profound effect he had on Victor. His features were so captivating, and his smile which was at once shy and seductive, meant that Victor could hardly say no to the question that was posed more like a command: 

“Dance with me?” He asked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy these drunk idiots in love 
> 
> This chapter is based on Tanaw's art that can be found here:  
> http://tanaw.tumblr.com/post/155627649240/mila-is-supportive-and-yuri-is-disgusted-but

Victor felt like he was flying. The other man’s hand in his own left him weightless, breathless as they waltzed, steps perfectly in time. He could not hear the music nor see the hundreds of people around him, he only watched _him_ , only heard the body which moved in synchrony with his own. 

“Don’t take your eyes off me,” the man begged, staring directly into Victor’s eyes. Victor fought the urge to laugh. Was he not aware of how utterly impossible it was for him to look anywhere else? 

The music slowed and so did their steps. Victor had learnt to dance when he was very young, but he had never danced like this before. Competitively. As though they both had something to prove to the rest of the world, as though this were a performance that determined everything.

“My name is Katuski Yuuri, delegate of the Japanese Emperor.” He said, suddenly realising he hadn’t introduced himself, and he bowed slightly and went to shake the hand of the Prince, causing them both to lose their footing as he unclasped their hands and attempted to shake the one he had just been holding. They both fell, Yuuri landing on top of him, and the crowd gasped in horror. Victor laughed, feeling sparks of warmth shoot through his body as the other man blushed harder 

“My apologies, Prince Victor,” He said, offering a hand to help Victor up. He kept his eyes on the floor, embarrassment radiating from him. Yuuri seemed to take this blunder as his cue to leave, much to Victor’s horror. As he turned to go, one piece of music finished and flowed into another, and Victor caught his arm.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

Yuuri looked taken aback. He nodded wordlessly, and allowed himself to be pulled back into Victor’s embrace.

 

 

“Yuri, have you seen this!” Yuri felt a tug on his sleeve and turned to find his sister Mila, hopping from one foot to the other in excitement.

 His brother was dancing with abandon with a short, dark haired man, and it was incredibly obvious to anyone with half a brain that they were absolutely smitten with each other.

 “Blergh. So gross,” Yuri muttered, rolling his eyes heavily.

 “Hush!” Mila laughed, almost giddy with excitement, “I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time. It’s cute.”

 Victor’s silver cape swirled around them both, enveloping them, joining them, isolating them from the rest of the world as they danced, oblivious to the looks and whispers of the crowd around them.

 “I only hope Papa doesn’t notice…” Mila said quietly, a sour feeling growing in her stomach.

 She turned back to Sara, who had clung to her side the entire night (though Mila couldn’t complain in the slightest), who stood, clasping her wine glass, watching the dancers with a tilted head and a smile on her lips.

 ‘She’s incredibly beautiful,’ Mila thought, but only in the privacy of her own mind.

 

 

  
The urge to get away struck Victor abruptly. He wanted to sit with Yuuri, talk with him, be alone with him, to get away from the claustrophobic ball room and the reminders of his royal life. An incredible plan came over him (though on reflection it may have only been an incredible plan due to the amount of wine he had drunk), and he turned to Yuuri, stumbling slightly.

 “Yuuri, I feel ever so faint,” He brought a hand to his brow dramatically, “I think perhaps I should take a stroll in the gardens to recover myself.” 

“Oh of course,” Yuuri stuttered, taking a step back. “I’ll let you, uh…”

“I think,” Victor interjected suddenly before he could try to flee, “that it would be best for you to accompany me, just in case I do faint.” And with that he took hold of Yuuri’s arm and half-dragged him towards the glass doors which lined the side of the ball room.

 

 

 

The air outside was brisk and cool, even in the middle of July. The gardens were bathed in moonlight and the night sky studded with soft stars. Victor started off down a path and Yuuri was more than content to follow his godlike figure as it disappeared into the darkness.

 It occurred to Yuuri that he was drunk, and that he hadn’t ever really been this drunk before, and that if anybody had seen a Japanese delegate disappearing into the dark with the heir to the Russian throne, that people might talk.

 It also occurred to Yuuri that he didn’t really care.

 Around him were ornately shaped box hedges and gravel paths and vast lawns that were so neatly kept, and he traced Victor’s footsteps with his own, following him into a more secluded part of the garden.

 Eventually, they came to a little courtyard with an old tree in the middle, low to the ground but with its huge branches spread out wide overhead. A small seat was suspended from its boughs, and Victor sat down, inviting Yuuri to join him.

 “I used to come here with my mother, when I was little,” he said softly, smiling, and Yuuri understood. This was a place for special people.

 Victor patted the space next to him. “Don’t be shy,” he smirked.

 Yuuri moved to comply, but the wine had gone to his head. His foot twisted underneath him and he lurched forward as Victor leapt up to catch him.

 “Gosh,” he murmured, catching Yuuri deftly in his arms. “You keep falling for me tonight, don’t you?”

 Yuuri could feel Victor’s warm hands around his waist and his eyes were staring at him intensely.

 Yuuri felt a strange warmth rise within him, and he began to giggle. At first it was just a few hiccupping splutters, and then he began to laugh, until he doubled over and was gasping for breath, and Victor began to laugh too and they stood there, holding one another and laughing, neither quite realising why there were so incredibly happy.

 “You are drunk, Katuski Yuuri!” Victor accused him mockingly.

 “Say that again.”

 “What?”

 “My name.” Yuuri rolled his eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

 “Yuuri.” Victor practically purred, which induced another fit of giggles from the man he was trying desperately to seduce. He frowned sulkily. 

 "You are being very unfair," he pouted. "I am trying my hardest. 

 Yuuri only laughed harder, but his shiver did not escape unnoticed. 

 “We should go back inside.” He nudged Yuuri and before Yuuri could react Victor had unfastened his cape and swept it around him.

 “It’s a little long.” Yuuri examined the cape where it trailed on the ground, wrinkling his nose.

 “It’s perfect.” Victor smiled, looping his arm through Yuuri’s and turning to go.

 "Prince Victor…” Yuuri began hesitantly.

 “Mmm?” He hummed in response, looking up at the stars and the wisps of cloud hiding the moon.

 “Would I be permitted to see you again?” He asked, watching the other man’s face intently for his response.

 “My dear boy,” he replied, turning to look at Yuuri head on. “I’m counting on it.”

 Yuuri smiled, and Victor’s heart soared.

 “I should give you back your cape, otherwise people might talk,” he fumbled to try and unclasp it, but Victor pushed his hand aside with gentle fingers, swinging the cape back around his own shoulders.

 “I fear they already are.” He laughed.

 

 

The rest of the night passed in bliss. They danced and mingled, never once leaving the others side. They talked too, installing themselves on the velvet chaise longues and chatting idly, about what it was like in Hasetsu, Yuuri’s birthplace, and about the poodles they had had as children and about the stars, the constellations they could see through the huge windows from where they were sat.

 Even when they party had wound to a close, when the women had retired to their rooms and the gentlemen had made their excuses they were still talking, and the servants tided around them.

 Then Yuuri began to yawn, and Victor apologised immediately for keeping him up and escorted Yuuri to the room in which he was staying.

 “I am so glad to have had the pleasure of your company tonight,” Victor said quietly as Yuuri opened his door.

 “As am I,” Yuuri responded with equal softness. For one, bizarre moment, Victor thought that Yuuri would kiss him. A simple peck on the lips, a good night, a token of the time they had spent together.

 He could not bear to admit to himself how badly he wanted that.

 Then Yuuri turned, the door shut behind him, and he was gone.

 

 

When Victor woke up it was late, and the sun was streaming through a gap in the thick curtains. He never slept in, but the wine and dancing must have exhausted him.

 Slowly, the events of last night came back to him. He could feel the touch of Yuuri’s hand on his waist, remembered the light in his eyes and the time they had spent looking at the stars where Victor was sure he could see a future for him with Yuuri, mapped out in the constellations they had picked out together.

 It was fanciful. It was madness, insanity, and Victor was absolutely certain that he would abdicate in a heartbeat for that man.

 He had been born, trained and bred to lead an empire, but all his life he had felt hollow. He hadn’t realised before that that wasn’t how everyone felt. That there was an alternative to the emptiness and that alternative was Yuuri.

 Victor lay in bed, allowing his head to fill with fantasies. There was a frozen pond in a park nearby, he and Yuuri could go ice-skating later, he was sure Yuuri would never have had the chance before in Japan.

 He would like to go to Japan, to visit Hasetsu with Yuuri and learn everything about his home town. Yuuri had told him about a great castle on the hill overlooking the town, and how the cherry blossom trees flowered in the summer.

 Victor had never seen cherry blossom. He imagined them in his mind, the flowers matching the colour of the blush on Yuuri’s cheeks. He thought about the softness of his eyes, and the redness of his lips.

 He had never kissed a man before. He wondered how different it would be, if his lips would be as soft, as warm. How wonderful would it feel to wrap his hands around his neck and to press their lips together, to be able to explore Yuuri’s mouth at his leisure, to know him more intimately than he had had the chance to last night.

 Slowly his thoughts strayed elsewhere, became more sinful and impure. His embarrassing lack of knowledge about something he so badly desired pulled him out of his reverie, making him blush like a school child.

 He knew that they could go somewhere. That someone, somewhere, must be like them. That, if Yuuri would let him, he would spend the rest of his life by his side.

 He remembered reading about a book, years ago, about a man who loved a man. How outrageous it was, how scandalous, and he remembered that the man who wrote it was locked away in prison. He shuddered, but he knew that the rules in Britain were far harsher than they were in Russia.

 They could make it work. Surely somehow they could make it work. Desperate to see Yuuri again, he bounded out of bed and called to be dressed, tapping his feet impatiently all the while.

 Taking a short detour on his way down to breakfast, he knocked sharply on Yuuri’s door. There was no reply, so he knocked again a little louder. Still no-one responded.

 Perhaps Yuuri was already at breakfast. Victor practically skipped down the stairs, reminding him of how his mother used to laugh at his antics when he was little.

 He resumed a more stately gait as he entered the hall. He stood on his tiptoes, scanning the room to find the mop of dark hair that had already become so familiar. Even with the bustle of the dining hall, he couldn’t pick Yuuri out from among the crowd.

 As he scouted around the edges of the room, looking this way and that to try and find Yuuri, a doubt grew in his stomach, to the point where he felt sick and dizzy.

 “Papa,” he called to his father, not caring that he was in the middle of a conversation.

 “What?” Yakov turned to him gruffly.

 “Have you seen the Japanese delegate this morning?” He demanded, breathless.

 “Ah yes, the young man you embarrassed yourself with last night,” his father pursed his lips and his eyes flashed. “I do believe he has already begun his journey home.”

And with that he turned away, and Victor was alone, heart in his throat and tears forming in his eyes. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drunk victor is apparently Oscar Wilde in my mind?? sorry not sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> This is so short I'm so sorry! I'm going to try and write more if I get round to it, because Tanaw has also done a complimentary piece which would be the basis for the second chapter!


End file.
